


Seven Days of Hell

by delusionalbookworm



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Attempted Incest, Awkward Flirting, Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Branding, Crossdressing, Doggy Style, Fluff and Angst, Forced Prostitution, Heavy BDSM, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Marking, Ownership, Platonic Cuddling, Public Blow Jobs, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Magic, Shameless Smut, Stalking, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:43:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1283017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delusionalbookworm/pseuds/delusionalbookworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because of a bet, Germany ends up stuck as a prostitute for a week. Not completing this week of prostitution will have big rammifacations for him. But what happens when Japan finds out?</p><p>This fic is also on ff.net. Same author, different name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

In hindsight, it was really his own fault. He should learn to stay out of other people's business. If he hadn't been making all those jokes about England and France, none of this would have happened. Germany sighed as he remembered.

It had all begun at a world conference. Most of the countries took a while to leave, usually because they were gathering up their things, or talking to other nations, or in Greece's case, sleeping with a kitten perched on the top of his head, so even ten minutes after it was over, the room wasn't entirely empty. Germany was stood near the door, after having given up the hunt for Italy (who had vanished a little while before, making some excuse about needing to discuss sauce with Spain). He was absent mindedly watching France and Britain interact. America slumped against the wall next to him, munching on a ludicrously large hamburger.  
"You know, you're an asshat, but god DAMN, you make good food." The bespectacled nation munched as he spoke, making his words all but unintelligible. Germany nodded and half-smiled at the backhanded compliment, not taking his eyes from the other two. Frowning slightly, America shuffled closer to Germany.  
"What are you looking at?" He asked. Germany nodded towards them, as France moved forwards before Britain could stop him, and began brushing some imaginary lint from the lapels of Britain's suit jacket, purely for an excuse to touch the other nation. Britain allowed this for a second before pushing him back, and sweeping the front of his jacket with his own hands. Germany could just about hear Britain yelling at France and telling him to keep his hands to himself. Germany rolled his eyes at the sight, thinking the discomfort was all for show. America shot him a quizzical look.  
"They aren't that interesting."  
"They are. I think it's funny. They put so much effort into not being found out, when really, no one cares."  
"What are you talking about?"  
"England and France. They should just tell everyone they're screwing and have done with it all." Germany shrugged, as if it was fact that they were together, and not mere speculation of several nations. America's eyes widened as Germany spoke.  
"You saw them fucking?!" He cried, clearly horrified at the prospect.  
"Nein, nein. But don't you think it's obvious, what with the way they are around each other?" Germany looked back over to them, while America sighed with relief. France was smirking and leaning forwards, murmuring something that was undoubtedly an invitation to something illicit into England's ear, while England's eyes bulged, and he blushed like a schoolgirl.  
"Nah, that's just France." America assured Germany, recalling occasions in which France had given Italy and Austria the same treatment. Germany chuckled and shook his head.  
"It's more than that. I'm sure of it." Germany insisted, watching as France tugged Britain's tie off, tied it round his own neck and began to do a teasing impression of Britain, while Britain protested and grabbed for it. Finally, France relented, and replaced the tie. Holding one end in each hand, he flipped it like a skipping rope over Britain's head, and tugged on it to pull him closer. Britain found his body pinned against France's, and while he squirmed to get away, the other nation simply laughed. America scowled at the sight, but he didn't say anything; he was too busy thinking. He knew something Germany didn't, and he could easily use it against him if he played this right. It wasn't that he wanted anything from Germany, or felt he needed revenge for anything. He was just incredibly bored, and felt like having some fun.  
"But... you have no proof?" He enquired, after a lengthy contemplation.  
"Nein, I don't." Germany admitted. America gave him a little disappointed look, and he must have really known how to play Germany, because hell, if that look didn't bring out his competitive side.  
"I have none now, but I bet I could find some." Germany couldn't help but boast. America shrugged, and nodded.  
"Okay. And I bet you can't."  
"Wait, are you betting that I can't because I'm not good at this stuff, or I can't because it doesn't exist?" Germany asked after a few moments of watching Britain smack France with his tie. America opened his mouth to answer, but then realised he wasn't actually sure.  
"Look, let's write this down so we don't get confused." He went back over to the conference table, and found a piece of blank paper. Germany followed him, and sat in the chair next to the one America had claimed, while he searched for a writing implement.  
"Hey Russia? Got a pen?" He gave up, and called across the room to the purple-eyed nation.  
"Yes, why?" Russia began to glide towards them, his being enveloped in a mysterious glowing purple fog.  
"It's nothing Russia." Germany said hastily, not wanting anyone else to get involved, should this go wrong. Not to mention that Russia creeped him out. America waved that off, and pulled a chair out for the other nation.  
"Me and Germany here are making a bet." He laughed, taking the pen from Russia and beginning to write out some terms.  
"Oh? What about?" Russia began to scan the document America was making. Germany groaned. He just had to ask.  
"Welllll, Germany thinks that France and Britain are screwing," America nodded his head towards the other two nations, who were still pressed against each other, one laughing, the other trying to escape, "and I think they aren't."  
"What are the stakes?" Russia asked. Germany and America looked at each other, having not previously discussed this.  
"What do you reckon, Germany? Loser has to give up some land?"  
"Aren't you a big enough country already?"  
"Money then?"  
"I'm really not that invested in whether or not they are screwing..."  
"Well we need something to happen to the loser...What about a dare?" America suggested after a few moments of contemplation. Germany shrugged.  
"What kind of dare?" He asked. America's eyes sparkled with glee as millions upon millions of bizarre and brilliant ideas popped into his head.  
"The loser has to try and seduce China."  
"Nein."  
"Japan?"  
"Nein."  
"Russia's scary sister?"  
"Nein! Und you do realise he is sat right next to you, don't you?"  
"Yeah dude, of course I do. What about -"  
"Can't you think of a dare that does not involve forcing yourself upon a potentially unwilling recipient, purely for the sake of the other's amusement?!" Germany demanded angrily. America seemed cowed for a second, before he snapped his fingers, grinning maniacally.  
"What about if it wasn't unwilling?"  
"Then it would be okay, I suppose. What are you thinking?"  
"Whoever loses has to be a hooker for a week!"  
"...Explain yourself."  
"Well, it wouldn't piss anyone else off, and no one else would know, unless they happened to see whoever lost standing in a dark alley at night in a miniskirt." America shrugged, knowing it was a fairly weak argument, but keeping his hopes up as Germany hadn't immediately dismissed it. Germany ran through everything in his head. He was certain that France and Britain were at it, and in all honesty, he kind of wanted to see America in a mini skirt, and not just because he loved embarrassing him. Besides, if he lost, there'd be nothing to stop him just telling America to go fuck himself. He smirked, and nodded.  
"Sure. I accept these terms." Germany nodded, and America scrawled them all down, as Russia watched.  
"Now, you just have to seal the deal with blood." Russia insisted, smiling that creepy smile of his. Germany and America both turned to face him, alarmed looks on their faces. They both protested vehemently, but somehow or other, Russia managed to convince them to sign the paper with their blood, and allow him to cast some kind of enchantment over the whole affair.  
"If the loser fails to cooperate with the terms, his soul will be forfeit to me." Russia chuckled, his being once again shrouded in a haze of glowing purple. Germany and America cast each other worried glances, wondering what the holy fuck just happened.

"So, how long do I have to gather this evidence?" Germany asked as he stood up.  
"Uhh, an hour." America shrugged, having a rather short attention span, and not wanting to have to wait to claim his prize.  
"An hour!? How do you expect either of us to gather sufficient evidence in that time?" Germany demanded. America just snickered, deciding that now would be a good time to reveal his secret.  
"HEY BRITAIN!" America hollered over to the other nation, who seemed grateful for an excuse to move away from France. Germany sighed inwardly, expecting America to just straight up ask him if he was screwing France. Except he didn't. When Britain reached America's chair, America caught ahold of Britains wrist, pulled him into his lap, and captured Britains mouth with his own. Entirely unsurprised by this action, Britain responded with equal enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around America's neck, while Germany watched, open-mouthed.

After Germany pulled them apart, England explained that he and America had been shagging ever since the end of WWII, and that although Francis was obsessed with him, the feeling was not mutual. Germany snarled. He moved to strike America across the face, but Russia caught his arm.  
"He wins." He said softly. Germany laughed harshly, shaking his head.  
"That was not winning! That was cheating, surely?"  
"No. The only rules states are that proof needed to be shown within the hour. And here is proof." Russia gestured to where England was still sat in America's lap, watching the whole affair with an air of amusement.  
"Serves you right for gossiping, Germany." He laughed lightly, before turning to the contract. He laughed even harder when he saw what Germany had agreed to.


	2. The First Day

So there he was, standing on a street corner late that night, waiting for his first patron. Thankfully, America had agreed to leave his appearance alone for the most part, asking only that he shaved, put on a little mascara, and allowed him to pick out the clothes. Though even that Germany was regretting. America had adorned him in five-inch heels, a black lacy corset, and a skin-hugging crimson mini-skirt so short he had doubts about whether or not it was even meant for adults to wear. Then he noticed the slit running up the right hand side. He didn't want to think about where America had gotten these articles of clothing from, nor who had worn them before he had.  
"At least I'll look pretty while whoring myself out for America's amusement." Germany muttered bitterly as a breeze ran through the thin garments, causing him to shiver.  
"Yeah, that's true." Someone chirped. Germany squawked in alarm, jumping slightly in his shock, and wheeled round, to see Italy standing behind him. Italy jumped back, wailing and shrieking.  
"What the hell are you doing here?!" The dangerous look in his eyes made Italy instinctively raise his arms in front of his face to shield himself.  
"Agh! You disappeared from the conference before I could find you again, and I went home and you weren't there either and I called Japan and he didn't know where you were either and neither did Prussia, and then I went to find the Allies because I saw you talking to them and when I asked where you were and they all started laughing, and I was getting worried and I didn't know what to do and then America said I'd find you here and please don't hit me!" Italy cried, speeding up as he spoke until his words were blurred and nonsensical. Germany rolled his eyes, and shook his head.  
"I wont hit you. Maybe. How long have you been here?"  
"A couple minutes. I wasn't sure it was you until you spoke, but I was too scared to ask." He stammered, shaking slightly.  
"I see. What did you want, anyway?" Germany asked, wondering why Italy had been so concerned about him. It wasn't as if he was Italy's little brother. He could take care of himself.  
"Oh well uh nothing really. I just wondered why you ditched me." Italy resumed a normal stance, seemingly assured he wasn't in any immediate danger. Germany sighed inwardly.  
"I didn't mean to; I thought you had already left... Just go home Italy. I should be back in a couple of hours." Germany waved him off, not wanting him to still be there when anyone who had an interest in "hiring" him arrived. Italy made a little whimpering noise, clearly reluctant to make the trip on his own, but he turned and walked away without another word. Germany sighed, both hating Italy for making this whole thing harder than it already was and hating himself for getting into this stupid mess.  
"Aww, look at him. The poor thing is lost without you." France chuckled as he walked towards Germany, casting a sympathetic look towards the now out-of-sight Italy.  
"Ja but there's nothing I can do about it, if I want to keep my soul." Germany groaned, before shooting France a suspicious look, "What did you want anyway?"  
"I don't think you need to ask, mon ami~." France leaned forwards and pressed a €20 note into Germany's hand, winking. Germany pushed him away, glaring.  
"Are you mocking me?!" He all but growled.  
"Hon hon, no, of course not. Even a gorgeous man like me can love a butch man like you~." France purred. Germany shot him a look of pure hatred, before catching his arm, and pulling him towards the motel room America had booked for him. His groan of "Let's get this over with," was drowned out by France's startled and delighted squeals and his cries of "Oh mon cher, I had no idea you were so forward~!".

The motel room was pretty standard, the only furniture being a double bed, a chest of drawers, a tiny fridge next to the chest of drawers, and a door which Germany presumed led to a bathroom (which he desperately hoped contained a shower), but he didn't get a chance to check, as France walked in behind him, closing the door with a swish of his hips, and he recalled what he was supposed to be doing. France advanced on Germany, draping his arms over the taller nations shoulders. Gentle kisses were pressed to his mouth, neck and jaw line, while deft fingers unlaced the corset, making Germany sigh with relief. It had been digging into his skin, crushing his muscular form into something shapely and feminine and he was glad to see it go. Fingers running through his hair brought him back to reality, and Germany smiled, a little bemused that France was treating him like a lover he had seduced rather than bought. It was better than if France had simply ordered him to strip, get on the bed and spread his legs, but even so, he didn't want to prolong the experience. He quickly began to return France's affectionate gestures, sucking on a particularly sensitive spot on France's neck, causing him to groan softly, unbuttoning his shirt as he did so. France quickly slipped out of it, and Germany began to leave a trail of kisses and bites down France's chest, from the collarbone to the naval until he'd unzipped Frances jeans and was tugging down his boxers with his teeth. Licking a hot strip up France's already hard cock, before he tried to remember what was usually done for him when he was on the receiving end. The last time Japan had done it, he'd done it so slowly, teasing him mercilessly, licking and kissing his member, occasionally pulling away and wanking him off to make his mouth free to do other things, so that he was a panting, begging, desperate mess, on the edge of coming before Japan even took him into his mouth. Germany blushed at the memory, letting out a sigh that made France shudder and moan, and tried to get his mind back onto what he was supposed to be doing. Hallowing his cheeks, he began to bob his head, but he couldn't get those thoughts out of his head. Memories of Japan wandered unbidden into his mind. Japan riding him, clinging to his chest, burying his face in Germany's shoulder, gasping and yelling Germany's name as his orgasm hit. He moaned around France's member, stiffening just at the thought of Japan crying out and writhing in pleasure underneath him.  
After a minute, France's fingers began to gently prise Germany off him, before pulling him up.  
"Mngh, that's enough of that, mon cher. Get on the bed." France murmured, his voice shaky, stepping to his feet to give Germany room. Germany hopped onto the bed, lying back and spreading his legs, still unsure of whether or not France wanted to screw or be screwed. He got his answer when France began to slick up his hands with lube. Germany groaned as France began to prepare him, fucking him with a finger, and then adding another, scissoring them, as he began to grow impatient, desperate to be inside Germany. Germany's hips began to twitch, bucking up in an attempt to gain some friction.  
"Mon cher~?" France simpered, taking a moment to admire the view of Germany as he lay underneath him, whimpering and writhing, before continuing, "Hon hon hon, have you been, shall we say, taken by a man before?" Germany glowered, about to tell France to fuck off and mind his own business, when France's hand closed around his dick and began to wank him off, causing all rational thought to scatter.  
"The truth please~" France purred, crooking one of his fingers and rubbing against Germany's prostate.  
"A-ah nein. I've been with Japan before but I was always the one on top." Germany admitted, whimpering and moaning. France nodded.  
"Just relax mon ami. You're going to love this.~" France assured him, slightly worried to have learnt that Germany was effectively a virgin.  
"Ja, I'm -ah! Fucking hell France- s-sure I will. Oh God, I need you, please fuck me now." Germany began to beg and France couldn't resist any longer. A condom was pulled on, and then he thrust into Germany, letting out a low groan as he did so. A long filthy moan erupted from Germany as France began to fuck him hard and fast. All the finesse, control, and affectionate gestures were gone. They was just two men desperately chasing their orgasms, with fingers dug deep into the others' flesh, and hips bucking wildly.

France seemed to sense Germany getting closer to his release; his hand moved back to Germany's aching cock, as he quickened his pace, thrusting in and out of Germany with no rhythm or care. He soon came with a scream, with Germany following suite seconds later. Panting, the two laid there for a while, in a hazy moment of post-coital bliss. Eventually France pulled out of Germany and rolled onto his back so he could lie beside him, carelessly disposing of his condom before draping an arm across Germany's chest and snuggling up to him.  
"Mon ami mon ami~" He murmured nonsensically, drifting off to sleep a few minutes later. Germany rolled his eyes and slipped out from under the arm. He'd have much rather stayed there, but he had to clean himself up, get dressed, and go out to do the whole thing over again with someone else. For Germany, that night had just begun.


	3. The Second Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. There's no smut in this one, not even a little bit. I'll make up for it in the next chapter, I promise.

Early the next morning, a few thousand miles to the East, Russia woke up after a peaceful night's sleep. He yawned, and after a few minutes, groggily pushed himself up into a sitting position. It was then that he noticed Belarus crouching at the foot of his bed, watching him. He let out a small wail, and scrambled off of the bed, and away from her. Belarus did not move from her spot on Russia's bed, but her head tilted sideways in a deranged fashion - allowing her dark eyes to follow Russia across the room. She was clutching something in her small hands, and when Russia looked closer, he realised it was a door handle. His door handle. Belarus had ripped it off again.  
"It was separating us, so I removed it, brother." Belarus told him when she realised where he was looking. Russia, although horrified at how creepy she was being, was not surprised. He wondered how long she had been there. There were dark bags under her eyes, as if she had not slept, so he'd guess most of the night.  
"Let us marry, and become one, brother. Become one with me. Become one with me." Belarus broke Russia's train of thought, and she finally slid off the bed and approached him. Russia let out another wail, and backed away from her, chanting 'kolkolkol' under his breath, as if to ward her away. It didn't work. He turned and ran. I need to get her interested in someone else, Russia thought as he ran, pursued by his younger sister. Or at least, I need to distract her from myself.

"You want what?!" Germany asked, astounded at what he was hearing. He was tired, and vaguely hung over from the night before (France had come looking for him a second time, and after they had finished, he had convinced him to have a drink. A long drink. Several bottles of wine and one barrel of beer long.), and he was certain that what he had just heard was not what Russia had actually said. It couldn't have been.  
"I want you to seduce my sister." Russia spoke without his usual eerie smile, his expression promising deadly seriousness. Germany's jaw dropped. So that was what Russia had actually said. After a couple of minutes, he realised Russia was waiting for him to reply.  
"Y-you mean Ukraine?" He asked hopefully, remembering the beautiful but nervous woman from the world meetings. She was poor, and rarely spoke, but seemed to want to make alliances outside of her family circle. Well, Germany would be glad to be "allies" with her, and -  
"Belarus." Russia answered. Images of the scary girl with long blonde hair and a purple dress flashed into Germany's mind. Unlike her sister, she did speak up, but what she said tended to be negative and morbid. The only thing Germany knew about her, aside from the fact that she was fascinated by human death, was the rumour that she was in love with Russia. There was no way he was going near her with the intention of trying anything on. It would be pointless. Besides, he was terrified of her.  
"But she's too young. Sie ist ein kinder!" Germany fumbled for an excuse. He didn't actually know how old she was, but he suspected that she wasn't legal.  
Russia shook his head, attempting to calm Germany down, "No. She's nineteen. And I did not say sleep with her. Or do any sexual acts with her. Just make her like you."  
"I think you have the wrong person, Russia. I only have two friends, and one of them is an utter imbecile." Germany almost laughed at what Russia had said. The taller nation opened his mouth to retort, but Germany, growing tired of this conversation, didn't want to hear it.  
"Nein. No way. It is not going to happen." He shook his head vehemently as he spoke. And then he stopped and stared at Russia. Purple mist seemed to seep out of nowhere and envelope him in an eerie glow, while his head twisted around the way Belarus's had earlier. And even though he didn't appear at all angry, (hell, his smile seemed to intensify,) Germany found himself regretting his words. Instantly.  
"Okay, okay! I'll do it!" Germany relented. The glowing stopped, and Germany breathed a sigh of relief. However the relief was temporary, and quickly disappeared when he fully came to terms with what he had signed himself up for.

"Okay, here's the plan. Tell Belarus to go here, and tell her you will meet her there. Then I'll go there and find her. I'll tell her there has been a change of plans, and because of this, you are coming to visit me at my house, and it would be best if she waited for you there. To make her believe me, I'll need a handwritten note from you to give her. I'll take her to my house, and attempt to seduce her there. And if all goes wrong, I will do as I usually do, and blame it on France."

Several hours later, after she had received a phone call from Russia, in which he told her he wanted to meet her, Belarus was leaning against the counter of a bar, waiting to be collected for what she presumed was their date. Of course, from the very beginning she had hoped that they would avoid all this foolishness and simply get married. After all, they were brother and sister, and already knew and loved each other so well, they surely already knew how perfect they would be for each other. But Russia had insisted that they "talk things through". So she was there, absent mindedly stirring her her drink with her straw as she waited for him, when Germany walked in. He was wearing his military uniform underneath an overcoat that was vaguely reminiscent of Russia's, and after the previous night, he found himself being immensely thankful for the sheer amount of skin that it covered.  
"Hallo. Are you Belarus?" He asked after striding across the room and claiming the bar stool next to the one Belarus was perched on.  
"Yes." She answered simply, without looking at him, "And you are Germany, yes?"  
"Ja, I'm Germany." He replied. And then there was silence. Germany internally cursed himself for asking such a closed question. He should have asked something that got her talking. Or he should have said something other than "yes I'm Germany". He should have said something to make her laugh or something flirtatious, or... Well it was too late now. After such a long time, it would appear strange to suddenly burst out with a reply. Luckily for him, Belarus broke the silence.  
"Well, I'm glad we cleared that up. So did you have something to tell me, or are you simply trying to make conversation?"  
"I wish I could say I was here purely for social reasons, mein frau, for it would give me more time to spend in your company, but unfortunately I am just here to pass on a message." Germany tried to appear suave and flirtatious as he said that, but instead it came off as downright needy.  
"I see. Who is the message from?" Belarus asked, whilst looking at him with a sense of disdain, wondering who would have known to send Germany to that bar.  
"Russia. He scheduled a meeting with me weeks ago, to discuss a possible alliance. When I reminded him of this earlier today, he told me he had forgotten about it, and it seems he made other plans, with you. So he told me to come here and give you this message." Germany pulled a small folded note out of his breast pocket, and handed it to Belarus. She quickly read it and looked up at Germany, glaring. Stories of Belarus destroying anything that stood between her and Russia chose that moment to float into his head, and he gulped, terrified. But Belarus's anger seemed to bubble down, and she turned her attentions back to the letter.  
"He says I should go home. He says we will meet at some other point instead, but that he is very busy right now, because he is trying to sort out some of his boss's more questionable choices, and it will likely not be for several weeks." She sighed mostly to herself. Of course this would have to happen the day Russia finally started to return her less platonic affections. Germany's eyes widened in alarm in hearing what she'd said. Did Russia not hear him when he'd explained the plan?! The note was supposed to say that she should go with Germany. The blond bastard was just covering his own back, most likely, but he still expected Germany to go through with this.  
"Das ist schlecht. What were the two of you planning to do tonight?" Germany asked, trying to sound sympathetic and mildly curious. The look Belarus gave him made him think that he was not pulling it off. Or she was still angry at him. But she answered him anyway.  
"He did not tell me. I was hoping something romantic."  
"I see... Was it an especially significant night?" Germany asked. Belarus nodded.  
"It was our first date." She pouted slightly, turning back to her drink.  
"And now it cannot take place? Wie schrecklich!" Germany cried, a tad overdramatically. Belarus nodded in agreement, despite not really listening anymore.  
"I shouldn't let my political affairs interfere with your relationship." Germany continued, slowly as if he was working through a thought process, "You know, I'm sure we can reschedule. My meeting isn't that important." Belarus looked up at him hopefully.  
"Really?" She asked, her voice sounding hopeful but her dark eyes promising vengeance if he was simply toying with her. He nodded hastily.  
"Ja, I don't see why not. If you come with me to mein house, we can wait for Russia to arrive, and when he does, we will explain it to him. I'm sure he will understand." Germany smiled at her. She did not smile back, but hopped down from her bar stool, and began to walk towards the door.  
"Okay." She called over her shoulder. Germany had to run to catch up with her.

Germany kept his eyes on the empty stretch of road in front of him, not daring to even glance across to Belarus. Belarus in turn gave Germany no attention, and simply stared out of her icy cold window, watching the patterns the raindrops made as they splattered against and cascaded down its length. Shadows elongated, and moved across the inside of the car, in a repetitive, strangely calming fashion as they passed underneath streetlight after streetlight. A gentle soundtrack of ambient keyboards and a light percussion seeped from the speakers, filling the otherwise silent vehicle. Germany knew he should start talking, or better yet, get her to start talking, but... what would he say? It occurred to him that this was one of the few times that it would have been a tactical advantage to have Italy around. He was a babbling lunatic, but he seemed to be able to make friends pretty quickly. Or inadvertently make other people friends by simultaneously turning them against himself. Either way, it would have been nice to have him around. At least he'd be at the house when they got there. Wait.. Italy would be at the house... And then Germany realised something. It didn't really have to be him. Because all Russia wanted was Belarus's attention to shift from himself to someone else. So why couldn't it be Italy? Oh, right. Because Belarus was attracted to power, or so Russia had told him. And Italy was Italy.  
"You don't go to the world meetings very often, do you?" Germany asked after a while, simply because he had to start somewhere. Belarus started at the sound of his voice, jumping slightly in her seat, before turning to face him.  
"No, I don't. I'm not exactly what you would call an important nation."  
"You are not happy with this?"  
"Would you be?" Belarus asked, a little bitterly. They lapsed back into silence as Germany considered the question.  
"I don't know." He answered honestly, "I would think that I wouldn't have to deal with a lot of things that I have to deal with now if I wasnt such a big nation." He wondered if his current situation would be any different, if he was any less powerful. He thought it likely that he wouldn't be in it, seeing as if he was any less powerful, he might not have been so close to America, and thus he wouldn't have gotten into that bet in the first place.  
"Oh? Like what?"  
"America, for one." Germany fumbled for an answer that wasn't too close to the truth, but true enough he wouldn't feel bad saying it. After all, he didn't want her to know about the events of the past week, partially just because he didn't want anyone to know about them, but he didn't want to lie to her. Belarus snickered.  
"I didn't realise he was that bad to know on a professinal basis."  
"He is "bad to know" on any kind of basis.. Do you know him outside of the world meetings?"  
"Yes. We share an affinity for the paranormal."  
"Really? I thought America was a coward."  
"Why would you think that?"  
"Japan told me that the last time America came over to watch scary movies with him, he was screaming at the slightest thing."  
"Ah. Well he does scream a lot. But he told me they were screams to scare away evil spirits.. I knew he was lying." She swore under her breath.  
"Did it work?" Germany asked, with a laugh.  
"To his credit, yes, it did. Or at least, if I was possessed by an evil spirit, I was too distracted by his screaming to notice."  
"Well, if he made it painless for you, you can only thank him."  
"I'll be sure to do that." Belarus smiled hesitantly. She looked up, to see that they were already pulling into Germany's driveway, rolling to a gentle stop before Germany pulled the keys from the ignition.  
"Would you like me to get you something to drink, while we wait for your brother?" Germany asked, already hopping out of the car.  
"Please." Belarus said, as she followed him inside.

"Oh, let's see. We have coffee, hot chocolate, orange juice, gluhwein... I also have two hundred bottles of vodka." Germany said, as he browsed his kitchen, only to find that several of his cupboards were full to the brim with bottles of the colourless alcohol. Belarus, who was perched on the work-top behind him, lifted an eyebrow at the sight of them.  
"They have a group for people who have trouble with their drinking." She murmured.  
"Nein, you don't understand. I told Italy to prepare the house for Russia's coming, and it uh. It seems he panicked." He explained, not wanting her to get the wrong impression.  
"Ah." Belarus hummed in understanding, "My brother does like vodka. But I do not think even he can drink that much."  
"Italy isn't exactly a forward thinker.. Do you want to help him out with it?" Germany chuckled. Belarus smiled slightly, and shook her head.  
"I will have the orange juice... So you live with Italy?" She asked. Germany nodded, as he went to the fridge and poured her a glass.  
"Ja. He's a little strange, und he is not the brightest of nations, but he's my friend. Having him around, sometimes it feels oddly like having a younger brother." He handed her her glass, before going back over and making himself a drink," Are you hungry?"  
"No, thank you." Belarus sipped her juice and watched Germany making himself a coffee. It was funny - she'd never paid him much attention before, but now all she could think was that he was very similar to herself. He was even strangely interesting to talk to, when he wasn't tripping over his own tongue. And he and Italy sounded like a sweet couple.  
"Do you love him?" She asked. Germany looked up from the bottle of milk he had been intently staring at, trying to work out if it was still in-date, and realised he had no idea what she was talking about.  
"Who?"  
"Italy." Obviously, Belarus thought.  
"Why do you ask?" He frowned at her in a somewhat suspicious manner. Why would she care what he felt for Italy?  
"Curiosity. Why do you avoid my question?" Belarus asked, again staring at him with that disdainful look.  
"I didn't.. Okay, yes. Like I said, he's my friend." Germany admitted with a weary smile, before tossing the milk into the bin.  
"And I suppose I'm forbidden from telling him this?"  
"Oh, he already knows. He wouldn't keep climbing into my bed if he didn't." Germany muttered to himself, before he realised how that sounded. He meant to explain it.. but then he realised he didn't actually have an explanation, and the fact was that Italy climbing into his bed simply for comfort and the pleasure of being in his bed probably sounded much gayer than whatever Belarus thought he meant. Luckily, Belarus didn't pick up on it. He must have said it quieter than he'd thought. The kettle came to a boil and he finished making his drink, before turning to Belarus.  
"Do you want to go sit down?"

Half an hour later, and Germany had decided that his mission to seduce Belarus had been doomed from the start, and that at most, he and Belarus would end up as friends. Also Russia needed to face his problems instead of pawning them off on unsuspecting prostitutes. So instead of flirting, Germany and Belarus were sat on the sofa in Germany's living room, both curled up under blankets, and sharing horror stories that they both claimed, despite the protests that came from the other, to be true. Germany had just finished a particularly gruesome one about a handsome German man "who was very much like himself", who just so happened to be a cannibal that preyed on young girls, when Belarus scoffed and rolled her eyes.  
"One man could not eat that many people so quickly. It's not possible." She protested. Germany sniggered, and shot her his best deranged look.  
"Is that a challenge?" He asked in a way that he hoped sounded maniacal. Belarus rolled her eyes at him, smiling despite herself.  
"Yes. Yes it is." She told him, somehow keeping a straight face.  
"Okay then." Germany finished his drink, and stood up. Belarus watched, bemused, as he solemnly headed out of the room. She heard footsteps running up a flight of stairs, and sounds of doors being opened and closed. Then there was a high pitched scream, and sounds of thumping. Unperturbed, she sat and sipped her juice as she listening to the various disturbing noises coming from the floor above her. A few seconds later, Germany casually strolled back through the door he had exited from, with a struggling Italy tossed over one shoulder.  
"GERMANY! GERMANY LET ME GO! WHAT DID I DO WRONG!? GERMANYYYY! IS THIS ABOUT USING YOUR CREDIT CARDS TO BUY ALL THAT VODKA? PLEASE LET ME GO! GERMANY! GERMANYYYYYY~!" Italy yelled, thumping uselessly on Germany's back.  
"Italy, be quiet while Belarus and I cook you." Germany ordered, trying to keep Italy balanced on his shoulder and gesture to Belarus to go into the kitchen at the same time. Italy screamed even louder, and struggled against him for a short while, kicking and hitting him, before suddenly going limp. Belarus walked over to him, and poked at his arm. There was no response.  
"I think he fainted, Germany."  
"Ja, I think so too." Germany gently eased him off his shoulder, and lowered him onto the sofa, "I get the feeling he didn't know we were joking."  
"To his credit, I was a little worried myself." Belarus admitted, watching as Germany rolled Italy onto his side, and propped him up with a cushion.  
"There is the slight chance I went too far with that one."  
"You could be right."

Italy came to much later, groaning slightly, before he remembered what happened and immediately stifled himself. He didn't want either of the other nations to know he was awake, mostly because he was embarrassed about having fainted. He risked a quick glance around the room, only to find it utterly empty. Then he heard the front door slam shut, and his head hit the cushion again, trying to cover his face with the blanket Germany must have draped over him at some point. Approaching footsteps made him quiver with anticipation and terror. Mostly terror. The living room door opened and closed, and someone walked over to him. He quickly realised that someone was Germany. Germany pulled back the blanket to examine Italy.  
"You're awake, aren't you?" Germany asked.  
"I wish I wasn't." Italy whimpered, trying to shy away from Germany, but having nowhere to move to. Germany let out a breath, and moved away from Italy, holding his hands up as he retreated.  
"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice sounding more than a little guilty. Italy glanced down at his own body. He certainly seemed okay. He hopped to his feet and grinned.  
"Yeah, I'm okay!" He looked round, and realised the terrifying blonde girl was no longer there, "Hey, where's Belarus?"  
"Russia finally showed up. He was pretty shocked that Belarus was waiting for him; I think he really thought I'd be able to do it."  
"Is he angry?"  
"I don't think so, but I can never tell when Russia's angry or when Russia's just being Russia."  
"Yeah, he is pretty scary all the time."  
"I feel bad for Belarus though. He wont just tell her he doesn't want to marry her, he always hides and evades. It must be awful. Though you would think she'd have worked it out by now. I mean, she seems pretty smart."  
"Oh, she has. But I don't think that matters to her."  
"Really? Well that's just wrong... Well, either way, it was basically a night off for me. Russia told me this counted."  
"A night of from what, Germany?" Italy asked, nonplussed. Germany opened his mouth, about to tell Italy some lie or other , when he realised that sooner or later, Italy would find out the truth, and A) it'd be better if it came from him, and B) Italy would be incredibly hurt if he found out he had been lied to. Also if he told Italy, neither America nor Britain would get the satisfaction of telling him.  
"Okay, Italy, this might take a while. See, America and I were having an argument about Britain and France, and it turned into a bet, and -"  
"- Oh, and now you have to be a hooker for the rest of the week otherwise Russia steals your soul away like a stray strand of pasta! Yeah, I knew that. Sorry, I zoned out for a second. So are you coming to bed? Because I'm pretty tired~." Italy's face had reddened to the point that it was the same hue as his famous pasta sauce, but other than that, there were no signs that he was anything other than totally understanding. He walked out of the room, leaving Germany to stare after him. Well that's not something you hear everyday, He thought.


	4. The Third Day

As usual, Germany awoke with Italy's arm slung across him, with no memory of when Italy had snuck into his bed. What wasn't usual was the fact that it was 4am, and his phone was ringing. He prised Italy's arm off of him, and rolled over to answer it.  
"Hallo?" He asked, sitting up and brushing his hair out of his eyes with his other hand. He didn't bother being quiet for Italy's sake - Italy could sleep through entire wars; a little phonecall wasn't going to rouse him.  
"Hi, Germany-san." At the sound of Japan's voice, Germany let out a startled gasp.  
"Oh, hallo Japan. Not that it isn't good to hear from you, but what are you calling for? It's four in the morning." Germany asked, trying to account for how alarmed he must have sounded.  
"Sorry, I did not think. It's afternoon here." Japan said sheepishly, and Germany wondered if Japan thought he was angry at him. There was a short silence.  
"I see." Germany murmured, "So is everything okay? Are China and his boss being reasonable?" He left the "I could have them killed for you if they aren't" implied.  
"Hai. We've gotten a lot done and I think he is going home today. I could come visit you tonight, if you would like." Japan offered, a little shyly. Germany groaned unhappily. He still had five days left. He had been hoping that China's visit would last the entire week, so he could have longer to work out how to explain the bet to Japan. The problem was, technically speaking, he had cheated on him. Several times. Twice with France. How could he possibly get Japan to excuse that?! Well, he could tell him about the whole soul stealing thing Russia had put in place as penalty for not going through with the bet. Would Japan even believe that? Probably not, but it wasn't as if he could hide everything that had happened from him. Even if he didn't say anything about it, and hid what was going on, another nation would bring it up eventually. And another nation could make it seem much worse than it really was. Obviously, it would be better if Germany told him himself - then he could make sure the truth was not skewed. He would need to tell Japan the first chance he got, so that Japan couldn't claim that Germany kept anything from him. He would need proof though. Namely, the contract. So he would need to contact Russia before he met with Japan. Or America.. Germany didn't know which one of them had kept the contract. Either way, he could use America to help him explain, and to hide behind if Japan drew his katana.  
"Germany-san?" Japan's voice reminded him he still hadn't replied.  
"Entshuldigung, but I dont think you can." Germany said with his usual bluntness.  
"I see." Germany didn't hear any disappointment in his voice, but he felt the need to explain anyway.  
"Ja, I thought you would be busy all this week, so I asked America over to try and sort out the offence he caused my boss at the Valentine's day Party." Germany lied, before adding a hasty, "Sorry."  
"That's okay."  
"I'm not sure how long it will take, but if you want I could call you as soon as I find out, and we could arrange a date then?"  
"Hai, good idea. Oh, China is waving at me. I should get back to work."  
"Of course. I hope it goes well." Germany started to say, before he yawned mid sentence.  
"You should go back to sleep, Germany." Japan said with a hint of fondness in his words, before hesitating and carefully enunciating one of the few words Germany had taught him, "Aufwiedersehen."  
"I will." Germany promised, before responding in kind, "Sayonara."

When Germany woke up three hours later, for a minute, he didn't remember that the phone call had even happened. After the past two days, it was actually rather nice to not be incredibly stressed out or worried about something, just for a while. Italy was still asleep, one leg laid over Germany's, and Germany just laid back, closed his eyes and smiled ever so slightly. He wondered what was so bad about Italy's bed that every night without exception he crawled into Germany's an hour or so after he'd fallen asleep. Maybe he should get him a night light for his birthday.. Not that he was complaining. Italy's presence was nice, for want of another word. His breathing was slow, rhythmic and incredibly relaxing to listen to - if Germany stayed there any longer he was at serious risk of either expressing affection for Italy or falling back to sleep. He knocked Italy out of the bed, and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes whilst ignoring Italy's startled squawks. That's when he noticed, on the back of his hand "Japan called. Get America" was scrawled, and the phonecall came back to him.  
"I have to go. You can get yourself breakfast without burning everything down, right?"  
"Ye. I'll just make pasta."  
"Excellent."

Germany found America in a home gym that he had apparently installed in his basement, quite a long time ago. He'd been directed there by Canada, who'd let him in, assuring him that America wouldn't mind if he just went in. Germany doubted this, seeing how paranoid America got at the prospect of other countries on his land, but to be fair, he had also doubted that America even knew what excercise was, and he'd clearly been wrong about that. Unless home gym was Canadian slang for barbeque. Anyway, he headed down the stairs, and ended up somewhere that reminded him of Fight Club in a very unsettling way. Apart from the fact that the walls were stripped bare, and it was lit by a single, dim lightbulb, there was also the fact that aside from the usual treadmill, bike, and weight lifting apparatus, a small arena for what Germany could only assume was wrestling took up about half of the space. America looked up from what he doing, and waved Germany over.  
"Hey! What do you think?" America asked, yanking on the safety string of the treadmill that had been clipped onto his shirt, causing it to shut down. He hopped off it, and gestured round, trying to act like he wasn't out of breath.  
"It's nice, but I was wondering if you would like to meet up, perhaps this week, possibly at my house? I mean your basement is an excellent basement but my living room has a sofa, so I think on the grounds of comfort, I'm winning." He rambled slightly, as he always did when he didn't know what the hell he was saying. America noticed, and raised an eyebrow.  
"Is this you trying to get me alone so you can get some kind of revenge on me for the prostitute thing? Because while I admire your efforts, -"  
"Nein. Nein. I want you to help me explain all this to Japan." Germany sighed, not bothering to keep up the pretense anymore. It wasn't as if it was helping, anyway.  
"Why should that be any different to explaining it to Italy?" America asked, nonplussed, as he half-heartedly wafted at himself, tugging at the neckline of his shirt to try and create a draft near his face. Germany absent-mindedly wondered how long he had been down there.  
"Because I had no prior commitment to Italy! Japan on the other hand.."  
"Oh, you two were a thing? Cool. I always thought you and Italy were going at it, but Japan's pretty good too."  
"Yeah, Japan and I were dating... Have you noticed how no one ever tells anyone when we get involved with another nation?" Germany asked, a little sidetracked when he realised the similarities between himself and Japan, and America and England.  
"Yeah.. Maybe we all have major trust issues?" America guessed. Germany nodded, considering it.  
"Could be that.. I used to think it was a defense mechanism. So if you went to war with someone, and your partner wanted to remain neutral, they wouldn't be dragged into it because they associated with you. Though, I think for you, it's probably got something to do with the fact that you're dating someone who you used to think of as your father." Germany mused out loud, causing America to flush bright red. Now that was not something you saw everyday.  
"S-so, you need help explaining all this to Japan, huh?" America quickly changed the subject. Germany nodded.  
"I thought if you could just get ahold of the contract, and told him about the bet, and the soul stealing clause of the contract, he wouldn't be as mad. So what do you think?"  
"Hm.. Yeah, we definitely need to show him the contract.. But I think we can do better than "not as mad"... I think we need to drum up some pity. Okay, here's my idea. We'll paint you up so you look bruised and battered, then we spin him a story of epic proportions, about how you were abused, and he'll feel so sorry for you, he won't be the slightest bit mad."  
"Really America, this is going overboard. All I wanted was some physical proof that I didn't have a choice."  
"Shush! Here's what you're gonna tell him...

"It was a few hours after we'd made the deal, and you were in the hotel room I'd booked out, with Russia. Russia was incredibly easy to please, and rather eager to get everything other and done with as quickly as possible, so there was no kissing, and no groping, just getting straight down to business. Not that there was a lot of straight-ness involved. You soon realised, as Russia quickly shed his own clothing, that he was already sporting a hard-on, and the thought of having him inside you made you shudder with disgust, but you had to press on. You comforted yourself with the thought that maybe he'd let you top.  
"What do you want me to do to you?" You asked, not bothering to sound even remotely sultry. It was pretty clear that Russia didn't need you to be seductive, and it would probably just get in the way with whatever Russia already had planned. Russia told you to kneel. You stopped undressing at that, thinking that all Russia was a blowjob, which left your skirt on. You sunk to his knees, and Russia told you to close your eyes. You did, but quickly opened them again when you felt Russia stuff the lacy panties you had already taken off into your mouth. You tried to push Russia away, but Russia caught your hands, holding you still effortlessly. He tied your hands up, tight that it hurt, before going back to your mouth, and pressing some duct tape over it. You tried to yell out but any sound you made was silenced by what Russia had done to you. A thick strip of material was tied around your eyes, blinding you. You were terrified. You didn't know what Russia planned to do with you. Maybe he was going to fuck you. Though he could be planning to kill you. Or kidnap you... Or maybe just lock you in that room and leave you alone, to starve to death. You let out a silent yelp when you felt Russia's arm loop under your arms from behind, and then you were being picked up, and carried across the room. A hard surface hit your arms, which were being pinned under your chest, and the front of your legs, and you realised you were being forcibly bent over the dresser you'd seen in the corner.  
"You've been a bad boy Germany. I'm going to punish you." Russia whispered, before you felt a sharp stinging sensation across your back. You let out a cry, and tried to stand up, to get away from whatever the fuck Russia thought he was doing, but Russia caught you. There was a hand at the back of your neck, squeezing so tightly that it left bruises, forcing you back down. The hand moved away from your neck, instead keeping you still by pressing down onto the back of your head, and something else was looped round your neck, replacing the hand. It felt smooth, and a little cold, and whatever it was was made of leather. You tried to kick Russia away, and for a few seconds, nothing happened, until your foot hit something. You felt Russia pulling away, and for a second, you thought you'd won. Then you felt something digging into your ankles and pinning your feet to the dresser, making it impossible for you to move. You began to violently thrash around, trying to get out of what was holding you in whatever way possible, but when you tried to stand up again, the thing around your neck began to tighten. Tighten so much that you couldn't breathe. You let out a panicked squawk, and lowered your body back down, forcing yourself to remain still. You were gasping with relief when your restraint loosened. It was a collar. Some kind of bizarre collar that reacted to movement. That's what Russia had put on you -"

"America, I'm not even sure such a thing exists!" Germany interrupted at that.  
"I didn't realise you were such an expert." America teased.  
"I'm not, but -"  
"Shush! It's story time!

"Then there was another blow to your back. There was a small pause, a few seconds in which all you could hear was your own heart racing, before Russia hit you again. You cried out as you were beaten with what you could only guess was a whip. Another hit, and this time it felt worse than the others. Your skin burned, and blood started pouring out of your wounds. Russia let out a moan at that. He was enjoying it, and you could feel his hard dick pressing up against you as he hit you again, harder still. And then it seemed that whatever had been holding Russia back before had disappeared, as now he was relentlessly beating you, bringing the whip down again and again, not bothering to pause in between each blow. Screams of pain would have filled the room if you hadn't been gagged. Instead, the only noise that you could hear was Russia's groans of pleasure, and his occasional murmuring. He was counting the lashes as he doled them out. 23, 24, 25. An especially hard hit made your head spin and the crack of the whip made your ears ring. And then, it stopped. Your head was spinning, and you were panting, trying to catch your breath. You were covered in your own blood and sweat, your body was slick with it. You were trembling with fear, waiting for the next touch, which wasn't the whip... no... it was a single finger of Russia's. It trailed up your back, until it reached the nape of your neck. The feeling disappeared then, before you heard this revolting sucking noise. Russia was tasting your blood! "You've been a bad boy." Russia repeated. And he kept whipping you. He loved the sight of the thick, dark gashes he was making on your otherwise clear skin. As the onslaught continued, your skin became shredded, carelessly sliced into thin ribbons spread across a pulsing, oozing wound. He dug his fingers into your skin and ripped a strip away.  
"This will scar, you know. If it heals at all. You'll always have these scars to remember this by. Except that you can't see them.. Perhaps I should turn you over, hm?" And you obviously couldn't say anything, all you could do was shake your head desperately. And Russia laughed at that.  
"Calm down, I wont. But I could, because you're mine and I could do whatever I wanted to you. No one is going to come and stop me. And you certainly won't do it... Because you enjoy this, don't you?" What he was saying made you shudder, and then you felt the tape on your face being peeled off, and the panties that had been shoved into your mouth prised out.  
"Tell me you enjoy this. Tell me you deserved it. Beg for me to continue. And I might stop." Russia told you, while he was gently stroking your hair. Of course, you shook your head, trying to preserve your own dignity.  
"Nein. I wont." You managed to sputter out. But that was the wrong thing to say, and you knew it as soon as you heard Russia taking a few steps backwards. You knew not to be relieved, because you knew this only hinted at some worse horror that would soon come. And you was right. Your injuries were on fire - burning with intense, newfound pain that stung and bit, and came without Russia even touching you. It hurt more than anything you'd ever felt before, and it didn't stop.  
"Salt." You'd had never heard Russia so full of glee before, "Tell me you want this." And you let out a whimper, before you sighed, and relented.  
"I-I want this." You hated to say it but you figured it was the only way you were going to get out of it alive.  
"Good boy. Now, who do you belong to?"  
"No-one." You started to answer, before Russia slapped you across the face, hard. You knew something horrible would happen if you didn't, so you corrected yourself, and screamed, "You! You. I belong to you."  
"Yes. That's right... I'm going to have to do something to help you remember that." Russia practically purred.  
"What are you doing?" You were demanding, and you felt the skirt you were wearing being pushed up, and out of the way, revealing your ass. And you were terrified, and you started begging him to stop but he ignored you. You thought Russia intended to fuck you, but the truth was much more horrific. You felt a sharp pain in your ass, and you realised Russia was cutting into you. The pain intensified, and blood dripped down your leg, and then the knife Russia was using moved, and that's when you understood that Russia wasn't cutting you, he was carving something into you. His name. And you were crying, and begging him to -"

"America! If you want to live, stop talking!" Germany finally interrupted him, a little scared of what would happen if America kept on talking. Trust America to be the only one who didn't mock him for his predicament, no he just caused it, and made him genuinely worried for his own safety now that he couldn't get out of it. He was sure he was strong enough to easily break free if anything like that really happened, but if he wasn't... He shuddered inwardly, and forced the image from his head.  
"Oh, okay." America shrugged, seeming almost disappointed that he hadn't been allowed to continue. Germany was suddenly realising why America had such a massive film industry.  
"You realise that was entirely unnecessary? I only need the contract and your word to prove what I said happened was true." Germany pointed out with exasperation. Now he thought about it, he wasn't even sure he would need that. After all, why would Japan think he would do anything like that if he wasn't forced to. If he'd just been sleeping with any nation that wandered past, that might be feasible, but crossdressing and full on prostitution? Too France. Still, he wanted to be sure.  
"Unnecessary, maybe, but it was still totally awesome. I might write it down for Britain to read later."  
"Most children make their parents crayon drawings and macaroni pictures." Germany retorted, glaring at America. He flushed red, though Germany couldn't tell if it was with anger or embarrassment.  
"He's not my dad! He just looked after me when I was a kid. And then he was a bit of a dick so I poured all his fancy pants tea into the harbour, and I was the gracious hero, and let him leave instead of destroying his entire nation like my people wanted me to."  
"How did you get from that point to sharing ein Bett?" Germany asked, now genuinely curious.  
"You helped, actually. It was after we defeated you the second time. Everyone was exhausted and glad to be alive, and we all went out for a few drinks, and we woke up together."  
"Ah, well. I helped you, now you help me."  
"Heh, yeah okay. I've got the contract, and I can call Russia over too, if you want."  
"That'd be helpful, thanks. Also, I told Japan you und I were having a meeting about you upsetting my boss at the Valentine's Day party."  
"Okay, got it! Wait, what did I do at the party?"  
"Nothing, but Japan doesn't know that. If he asks, say.. say you were helping to take the decorations down afterwards and you broke my Cupid."  
"Okay! So when are we gonna tell Japan what happened?"  
"Not tonight. Most likely tomorrow. The sooner, the better." Germany glanced down at his watch and groaned, "I have to go. I left Italy on his own."

Germany spent the next few hours carefully planning schemes to apologise to Japan and carefully planning schemes to get his revenge on America. After asking Prussia to skim through his ridiculously detailed diaries to see if there was anything in there about possible phobias he could exploit, or maybe foods America was allergic to that could be "accidentally" slipped into his food, he had a neatly complied folder that documented all of America's weaknesses and past failures.  
"What are you going to do, brother?" Prussia had asked him.  
"Nothing, yet. I need his help right now, and after this week is over, he'll be expecting it." Germany had replied, careful to be incredibly vague, as Prussia wasn't exactly what you'd call loyal.

But before long, it was time to get changed and head out. This time he was wearing ridiculously tiny denim shorts that, according to Italy, did amazing things for his butt, black platform high heels, and a low cut vest top, which, thankfully, was a lot looser than the corset had been. He was starting to regret letting his outfits be chosen for him, but this one kind of made him feel better about what America had said. Mostly because there wasn't a skirt involved this time. He'd been stood out there for about ten minutes, when he began to feel as if he was being watched. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted America loitering in a small side alley. America beckoned him over, unwilling to exit the shadows of the alleyway.  
"Have you brought the contract?" Germany asked, not being able to think of any other reason why America would show up. He laughed, and took a couple steps backwards. Germany followed him without really thinking about it.  
"No. I figured I was being a dick when I got you into the situation, and I can't get you out of it. But I can at least make it more pleasurable." At that, America darted forwards, and tugged at Germany's fly. Germany's eyes widened in alarm, and grabbed at America's hand.  
"What are you doing?!" He demanded.  
"Exactly what I said I would.. I mean, if you want me to." America explained in a way that really explained nothing. Germany gave him a weird look, then let go of his hand, deciding -in part because of curiosity, in part because America was actually kind of attractive when he thought about it- to let him continue. America undid Germany's short button, and pushed his hand into the shorts. Germany was about to ask him what exactly he intended to do when he began rubbing his hand against Germany's crotch through the fabric of his panties, the friction making his dick twitch in interest. America pushed his hand into the waistband of Germany's panties, so he could dip his hand down, trailing his fingers along the length, and around the head, before slowly running a single finger back and forth across the slit, collecting a drop of precum as he did. Germany let out a strangled breath. America's actions were drawing out much more of a reaction than they should have done, and he had no idea why. America's hand was beginning to pick up the pace, and Germany wondered if he intended to give him a handjob then and there. Reluctantly, he caught ahold of America's wrist and pulled it away. Hundreds of questions were racing through his head and he would have felt guilty if he had let America proceed without asking them. He was actually a little surprised none of them had occurred to him before.  
"America! What about Britain?"  
"Britain said it was okay... How much is it for a blowjob?"  
"I haven't been charging an exact amount for any one thing. I just took whatever they gave me. But why would you do that to me if you just wanted me to suck you off?!" Germany asked, a little flustered.  
"Oh, no. I didn't." America took hold of Germany's shoulders and pushed his back against the alley wall, before kneeling before him and looking up. Germany met his gaze, and the longing in America's eyes, as he slowly licked his lips, made him shiver.  
"Do you want me to or should I just go?" America asked, after several seconds of Germany's silence. He was being uncharacteristically considerate (well he was often considerate, but he often forgot that other people weren't always on board with/ up to speed with the things he planned), and Germany wondered absent mindedly if Britain had made him promise to ask. He let out a whimper and nodded, urging America to continue. America simply chuckled, and edged forwards, fully unzipping Germany's shorts, and tugging them and his panties down so that the waistband lay around his upper thighs. America's hand returned to Germany's cock, stroking the shaft as he slowly licked around the head. Germany let out a startled moan as America took his entire length into his mouth, in one fluid motion, throwing away all efforts to toy with Germany and just got straight down to business. Germany wondered if that was a sign that he was regretting proposing to do this and he just wanted it over with as soon as possible, or if he always behaved like this. America began to bob his head, hollowing his cheeks as he did so, and all Germany's thought's scattered. Germany's eyes fluttered closed, and his head rolled back to rest against the brick wall behind him as America sucked and continued bobbing his head. The brick wall reminded him where he was, and at that he brought a fist up to his mouth, stifling his moans, as he realised how easy it would be for them to be caught. There was a hand at his hip, clinging to him and steadying him at the same time, and he realised America had planned it from the beginning to end up like this. Either America had the least amount of class he'd ever seen in a nation before, or he had some kind of being watched kink. Still, he couldn't really berate the nation whose mouth he had his cock in - ah, make that throat. All his restraint vanished as he felt America swallowing around him, and he began to buck his hips, fucking America's mouth almost relentlessly, and god damn, America must have had the world's most non-existant gag reflex, because he just took it. Hell, he moaned while it was happening. A warm feeling grew inside Germany, and he knew he was on the edge. His hands grasped ahold of America's head, stopping him from pulling away, and his fingers tightened in America's hair.  
"America! Ngh - close." He whined, forgetting where they were for a second. All that existed was America's mouth and his nearing climax.  
"B-bitte!" He let out as a desperate moan, and America complied, beginning to hum as he sped up. Germany let out a garbled cry as he came, spilling his release into America's mouth. He swallowed it readily, licking his lips as he stood up.  
"Forgive me?" He asked, with a smug grin. Germany nodded weakly, as America quickly re-dressed him. He hadn't really processed what America had said, and even if he had processed it, he wouldn't have had to coherency to explain that one orgasm, no matter how mind-blowing, did not make up for all the stress and aggravation America had caused him. He was mainly focusing on staying upright. America tucked something into his pocket, and Germany trembled under his touch, as, with his entire body now hypersensitive, America's hands were leaving goosebumps in their wake. It took Germany's dazed brain a few seconds to realise it was a couple of notes. He didn't bother checking to see how much America had given him - in all honesty, he didn't really care. America tapped him on the shoulder, and nodded down the alley.  
"Hey Germany, I'm glad you liked it and all, but you were incredibly loud, and it'd be awesome if we could leave, rather than stick around and find out if anyone saw or heard, and/or called the police." America sounded hastier than Germany had ever heard him, and it made sense when Germany realised he was failing to conceal his own erection, that was straining in a rather uncomfortable-looking manner against the zip of his jeans. Germany nodded, and began walking down the alley with America, thinking that when they got to a more private place, probably America's car, he would wank him off. Then he shuddered, wondering what it meant that that had become a commonplace thought for him.


	5. The Fourth Day

Germany was sat at a table, doing some vaguely economic things with a calculator and a list of his incomes and expenses,trying not to think about what had happened the day before, when America strode into his house uninvited. He held a large, brown paper bag that was positively dripping with grease, and before Germany could move his papers, he set it down on the table, and sat next to Germany.  
"America, what are you doing here?" Germany asked wearily, as America unrolled the top of the bag, and pulled out several portions of chips and two large hamburgers wrapped in pastel-coloured plastic. Germany folded the bag away and tried to salvage what was left of his taxes.  
"Eating," America said, unwrapping one of the hamburgers and biting into it, before thrusting the other into Germany's hands, "I bought us food. And it's good." Germany stared down at the food in his hand, frowning, before putting it aside, and attempting to go back to what he was doing. Partly he did need to work out by how much Italy had set him back when he'd bought all that vodka, but mostly, he just really didn't want America to be there. After the hazy afterglow of his orgasm had died down the previous day, he hadn't been able to look America in the face the same way. It had been, and still was, just too awkward. What did a person say to a previously purely platonic friend, who had just given them one of the best blowjobs of their lives? "Thank you"? Besides, there was the fact that Germany was also incredibly embarrassed that he'd allowed that to happen in public. It wasn't that he thought sex was anything to be embarrassed about per say – sex was sex, perfectly natural and a large portion of the world's population engaged in it frequently – he just didn't want total strangers knowing the intimate details of how he did it or with whom. And he wasn't insecure about his own body (not that he'd have any reason to be) but he also didn't want random strangers knowing what he looked like down there. It was so humiliating for him to think that someone he knew might have seen him like that – pressed against a wall in a filthy alley with his trousers around his knees and America's mouth on his cock. Whenever he saw something –or someone- that reminded him of it, all he could do was wonder if someone had seen it, if someone who knew him had seen it, if another nation had seen it... He shuddered in disgust, as he had already done many times that day.  
"You okay dude? You look a little off," America asked through a mouthful of chewed meat. Germany grimaced at the sound of it, but didn't look up from his papers, until he realized the implications of what America was saying. He was asking because he didn't understand. So he obviously didn't feel the same way.  
"Aren't you bothered about what happened yesterday? I mean you s-sucked me off in front of anybody who might have happened to walk by, and you aren't bothered by it?"  
"Course not. I said no homo first."  
"I ... What?"  
"No, dude, listen. If we let these weird awkward feelings fester and build up, then there'll be a gap between us, and we won't be able to bridge it. So we won't be able to be friends anymore. So you avoid the feelings until they go away. It's called getting right back on the horse." Germany hadn't realised that America thought of them as friends. Still, he couldn't just pretend that America's very presence wasn't putting him on edge.  
"That makes no sense America. Please, can you just leave?"  
"Fine," America uncrumpled the paper bag, wrapped his burger back up and put the burger and a portion of chips back into the bag before standing up, "But I thought you might like to know, Japan finished his deal with China, so he's gonna be wondering why you aren't talking to him. And the longer you wait, the longer he has to talk to other nations, who saw you on the street, or who -ahem- hired you. So if I were you, I'd talk to him, ASAP."  
"Ja, I know! I'll call him, and tell him I want to talk to him tonight. Then I should have enough time to get Russia on board."  
"Yeah, about that. I don't know if you've heard, but Russia is kind of pissed off with you. Something to do with the fact that Belarus bought them wedding rings, I wasn't really paying attention."  
"He can't blame me for that; we both knew that plan was flimsy at best. Ugh, I can't believe this." Germany groaned in dismay. Belarus just hadn't been into him, it wasn't like there was anything he could do to change that. Not that he'd want to even if he could. And anyway, that plan was not a realistic long-term one. Even if he had managed to get her interested in him, he wasn't going to start dating her and move in with her and marry her just to get her off Russia's back. For one thing, he was already dating Japan. Hadn't he made that clear to Russia?!  
"You know if we really need him, I'll talk to him and see if I can change his mind."  
"Danke, America. Did you bring the contract?"  
"Yeah, it's on the passenger seat of my car... But uh, so is something else."  
"What?"

The something else, as it turned out, was England.  
"What's happening?" Germany asked, after England had been invited in. America and England sat at the table, and he stood near the door, at an angle that meant he could easily glower at them both. America squirmed slightly under his gaze; it felt like he was in detention in a high school.  
"Well, uh, England sort of revoked his okayness of the whole blow job thing. He is now decidedly not okay with it. And, he kind of wants to make things even between us."  
"What do you mean? Make things even between who?"  
"Me and him." England said, speaking for the first time, "What I mean is, I think I'd be okay with it if it wasn't just America that did it. But it was, so it feels like he cheated on me."  
"You feel left out, you mean." America retorted with annoyance. It was pretty obvious he thought England was being ridiculous, and Germany would be inclining to agree with him, if he knew what the hell was going on.  
"I do not feel left out. And don't talk like that. I know you didn't! I said it was okay, and I'm not mad at you for doing it. I just don't think it is anymore."  
"Contrary jerk." America muttered. Now that, Germany definitely agreed with.  
"So I was wondering... uh..."  
"You were wondering if you could suck me off too." Germany filled in, sighing with exasperation. Of course America didn't care about their friendship enough to come over and make things not awkward. Of course this was to do with some bizarre sex-related insecurity of England's.  
"Oh, no, not at all." England actually looked a little offended, "Not everything is about your cock."  
"No? Then what is it?"  
"I think his exact words were "shag you senseless."" America smirked, as England went redder than Germany could have thought possible. Germany's eyes widened as what America had said sunk in, and he looked over at England.  
"What?! Why?"  
"Because I don't like the thought of my Alfie being with anyone else. But if I've been with them too, it doesn't matter." England was still bright red, but he managed to answer in a semi-dignified way, without squeaking or anything.  
"...Fine. It's insane reasoning, but fine." Germany said with a sigh, figuring that if England wanted to screw him, it'd work out better for him to just go with it, and count that as his prostitution for the day. It was still early, so he could get it over and done with, shower, and then he could explain everything to Japan without having to leave mid-explanation to go find a patron, which would probably not go down too well with Japan. It actually worked out pretty well. Then something occurred to Germany, "Why the senseless part?"  
"Ah, that's just his obsession with trying to be better than me at everything." America said. Germany looked between them, and thought that America might actually have a point. It seemed like England frequently took up things to try and prove he was just as good as, or better than, America, who had once been underneath him and in his control, but when America brutally upstaged him, as he always did, England gave up and went back to his normal routine of comfort-eating scones, and constant sarcasm.  
"Sounds like a healthy relationship. So, do you just want to get this over with?" Germany asked with a sigh, straightening up and rubbing a hand against his forehead wearily. Britain looked up, his gargantuan eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. He hadn't expected Germany to be so quick to accept it.  
"Now, please. If that's no trouble." His vaguely passive aggressive English manners never faded, even during a transaction with a whore.  
"None at all." Germany turned and led the way into his bedroom, with America and England at his heels.

Germany pushed the door open to the bedroom shut and turned to face America and England, but before he could walk towards the bed, England had pinned him up against the door, and kissed him. At first a little too startled to respond, Germany soon sunk into the kiss, closing his eyes and letting out a little whimper as England nibbled on his lower lip, asking for permission to enter. Germany complied, and England's tongue teased his own, making him shudder and moan. England's hands worked their way in-between their two bodies and unbuttoned Germany's shirt buttons, just enough so that he could brush Germany's collar back, pull away from the kiss and bite at his neck. Germany let out a low groan at the feeling of England's mouth on his skin, as his body melted like butter. He didn't think to wonder how England knew how easily biting turned him on, he simply tilted his head to the side to give England some more room and a warm feeling filled him as England's teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. His hands grasped at England's waist and he rocked his hips back and forth, grinding against England, trying to get some friction.  
"Don't leave a mark." He tried to order England, but it came out as a breathless plea. England simply chuckled, and sunk his teeth a little deeper, and a small throb of pain elicited a gasp from Germany.  
"It's a little late for that." England murmured, running his tongue along the flushed spot of skin that had already appeared on Germany's neck. He unbuttoned a little more of Germany's shirt, then pulled it off altogether. He moved down to Germany's collarbone and bit him again. Germany groaned and whimpered as England ravished his body with his mouth.  
"Can't you two just fuck already?" America asked, his voice somewhat strained, and when Germany looked over at him, he saw that America was palming himself at the sight of them. England didn't pay him the slightest bit of notice; instead, he kissed Germany again, this time harder; more forcibly. England's hand curled into a fist in Germany's hair, not tight enough to rip any hair out, just tight enough to make it hurt, and to make him feel it. And Germany felt it, alright. His breaths were ragged and he was trembling in anticipation, loving every second of this and waiting for England's next move. He'd always liked rough, painful, kinky sex and by the time England let go of him, he was trembling and panting, and moaning at the slightest touch. England pulled him away from the door, turned him round and kissed him again, walking them both over to the bed. The edge of the bed hit the back of Germany's knees and he fell onto it, pulling England down on top of him. England let out a snort of laughter, and pushed himself up off of Germany. He leant down and unbuttoned Germany's trousers, tugging them off and quickly ridding the blond man of his briefs too. Germany groaned as England licked up his shaft and along the slit, teasing his already aching cock.  
"England, please!" He gasped, his hips bucking up desperately. England smirked, and took the head into his mouth, sucking on it lightly and licking round it, before pulling away.  
"Get on your hands and knees." England said as he pulled off his own clothes. Germany complied, a little uneasily, but still groaned when he felt England's hand on his hips. England reached over to the bedside table, and rummaged around in the drawers until he found a pot of lube. He applied some generously to his hands, and started preparing Germany, slowly pushing a finger into him, and crooking it just right. Germany moaned as England rubbed his sweet spot, rocking back onto England's fingers as he added a second, and then another. He quickly thrust his fingers in and out of Germany, hitting that spot every time. He was too delirious with pleasure to think about how strange it was that England found it so quickly.  
"P-Please, England, just f-fuck me." He panted, already on the edge, desperate to come. England leaned over him without slowing his pace, his chest flush with Germany's back as he began to jerk Germany off in time to the fingers moving inside of him. Pleasure ran through Germany's body and he let out a harsh yell as he came in England's hand, before collapsing, trembling, onto the bed.  
"Germany.." England groaned, reminding Germany that England still had yet to come. He tried to push himself back onto his hands and knees, but he was still dazed from that mind-blowing orgasm. His body was hyper-sensitive, and every touch made him shiver, but he didn't seem to be quite in control of it. It didn't matter though, as England's arms looped under his chest and pulled him back onto his hands and knees, and held him there. England rubbed lube over his cock, then slowly pushed into Germany, careful not to move too quickly or too sharply, until he was fully inside Germany. He rocked back and forth, slowly, pulling almost entirely out, and then snapping back in again. He gradually built up a quick pace, and Germany groaned as England thrust into him again and again, but as he tried to rock back against him, he found he couldn't move. He looked up, and saw a tendril of dark smoke wrapped around his arms and chest. He couldn't feel it against his skin, but it was keeping him still.  
"England," He gasped, "Did you do this?"  
"Relax; it's just a little dark magic." England panted as he thrust in and out of Germany, not slowing his pace. Germany moaned as he felt England slam into him again and again, and he felt a rush of heat when once again he tried to rock back and he couldn't. He had already been so vulnerable in that position, vulnerable and exposed, and now he couldn't move, he was utterly powerless. He was totally at England's mercy. And, fuck, it felt good. England quickened his pace, digging his fingernails into Germany's hips, so hard it was bound to leave bruises. Then he pulled Germany up slightly, changing the angle he was thrusting into him at, and suddenly every thrust was pinpointed towards his sweet spot. Germany panted and groaned as England fucked him relentlessly, not caring if he hurt Germany or not. And it was painful, just shy of too painful; but Germany was once again so close to the edge he didn't care. England could fuck him dry for all he cared, as long as he got to cum at the end of it. England leant down, not slowing his pace in the slightest, and bit down on Germany's shoulder. Germany let out a cry of ecstasy as he came, both pleasure and pain running through his body. England's orgasm came soon after, deep inside Germany, making him warm. England pulled out of Germany and collapsed on the bed next to him, groaning. The smoke tendrils disappeared and Germany sunk down onto the bed face first.  
"I-I don't think I can walk." He stammered when he'd regained coherent thought.

"Germany-san." Japan smiled softly when he Germany answered the door. Germany swallowed uncomfortably. He was not going to be smiling in a few minutes, that was for sure. He knew Japan had to find out, and pretty damn soon, he just wished they could have a few moments of normalcy before he did. But America had gone to fetch Russia a little while ago, and amazingly, had convinced him to help Germany, so now they both sat in the living room.  
"Japan," He smiled back, quickly composing himself, and beckoned Japan in, shutting the door behind him, "I've missed you,"  
"It was only a few days." Japan pointed out.  
"True. Fine, then I didn't miss you. In fact I didn't even notice you weren't here."  
"Hm. I think I prefer the other one." Japan said, stepping closer to Germany, and going up onto his tiptoes so he could kiss the blonde nation. Germany kissed him back readily, his eyes fluttering closed and his arms instinctively wrapping themselves around Japan's body. Japan broke off the kiss, sinking back down to his normal height, but didn't pull away, instead remaining in Germany's arms and looking up at him, his small smile the very picture of contentment. He opened his mouth, about to say something, when America stuck his head round the door of the living room, interrupting them.  
"Hey Japan!" He called, grinning widely as usual. Japan slipped out from Germany's embrace, blushing slightly and looking away a little awkwardly.  
"Oh, hello America. Germany didn't tell me you'd be here."  
"He didn't?" America asked, casting a dubious look towards Germany. He seemed to realise Germany was probably not going to do this of his own volition, so he grinned again, and asked, "Did he tell you that Russia was here either?"  
"No." Japan replied simply, and looked up at Germany, a hint of confusion in his expression. Germany winced, not knowing what to say, or even where to begin.  
"Sorry, I forget to mention they would be here. I need to tell you something. And since they're involved, they said they'd help me explain it." There. That was a start. He gestured for Japan to go into the living room, where America and Russia were waiting. Japan did so, and as he went, he thought about what could have caused the normally blunt, harshly spoken Germany to become to hesitant and careful with what he said, and what was this thing he needed America and Russia to help him explain? As far as he was aware, Germany had a strong disliking for Russia, and when it was possible, avoided America. So how were they connected? He stood opposite Russia and America, and waited for them to start.  
"Basically, when you were over with China, there was a world meeting, which obviously you and China did not attend." Germany started. Japan nodded, remembering how China had made some comment about being lucky to be able to skip it.  
"Well, we were all hanging around after it was over, and we saw France being all lovey-dovey with England. Germany thought they were dating, and I knew that they weren't, so we made a bet on it." America picked up where Germany left off, and Japan nodded again, not really sure where this was going. He'd seen France act like that around England before, even heard stories of France trying to force England to marry him, so he didn't see what significance this held.  
"Ja, that's right. And Russia here came up with a contract that forced the loser of the bet to go through with a kind of forfeit we agreed on prior the contract being signed. And if the loser didn't go through with it, they would lose their soul, because of some creepy black magic that Russia put on this contract." Germany said, and Japan raised an eyebrow. If they were going by the Western idea of what a soul was, then it was a person's very essence of what made them them, and not simply a body. Their consciousness would be a non-religious way of phrasing it; their mind and their personality and their ability to think for themselves. Japan wasn't entirely sure what a person would be like without a "soul", or even if Russia had the ability to take one, but it seemed that, if souls did exist, and Russia could indeed take them, it wouldn't be something that a normal person would be willing to risk.  
"Who lost?" Japan asked, before adding what he supposed was the more important question, "What was the forfeit?"  
"The forfeit was a week of prostitution, with a quota of at least one person per day." America supplied helpfully, and it pissed Germany off that after everything that happened, he still found it amusing enough to grin as he explained it.  
"I lost." Germany said, a little unnecessarily, seeing as anyone with a brain could work out that they wouldn't be having this big intervention-style explanation if America had been the one wearing a corset and lacy panties. He didn't look at Japan, not wanting to see the look on his face when he realised exactly what that meant and how long ago the meeting had been, so how many people Germany must have been with since then. (Though that number would actually be inaccurate. He hadn't found out about the only one person a night until the day after the first night, so he'd been with three people overall, and with France twice, on that night.) He'd never seen Japan angry before. He didn't know if he'd see it now. There were a whole host of other possible emotions. Then again, he might not show any emotion at all, he might just walk out and never come back. He finally looked at Japan, seeing as not looking at him made him feel cowardly, and that wasn't something he liked feeling. Japan looked disgusted. His nose scrunched up, and his upper lip curled and when he looked over at Germany as though he was looking at something unclean.  
"Who was it with?" Japan asked, so quietly it was as if he hadn't spoken.  
"France, Poland, Romano, America and England." Germany scrambled to answer, trying to show he had nothing to hide. Japan nodded, noticing there was one more name than there had been days in the bet, even if you counted that day, but decided not to question it.  
"You used protection?" It was a statement, really, thinking that Germany wouldn't be stupid enough not to use protection, but it was a statement that required confirmation. Which Germany couldn't give. He'd been so caught up with getting over with the acts themselves, he hadn't once thought about condoms. France had used one both times, of his own initiative, but other than that, they hadn't been used. He wasn't likely to get pregnant any time soon, but he could be a walking ball of diseases for all he knew. He looked over at America, and saw his own realisation reflected in his face. Japan sighed, and took that shared look as a "no". Japan opened his mouth, about to say that if Germany really didn't have a choice, then he forgave him, when Russia spoke up for the first time.  
"There was no spell on the contract." He said. There was a second of silence, in which everyone absorbed what Russia had said, then Germany exploded. He threw himself at Russia, screaming German profanities, aiming to grab him by the hair and slam his head against the wall again and again. But America caught him, and held him back, knowing that no matter how angry Germany was, Russia would always beat him in a fight. Everyone in the room knew it, except Germany, who was desperate to break out of America's grip. He tried to explain that to Germany, but instead of listening, Germany threw his head back, hard, and head-butted America's nose.  
"OW!" America cried, in both shock and pain. Blood spurted forwards, and America let it, seeing as he couldn't quench the flow of blood and hold onto Germany.  
"I think it would be best if you left, Russia." Japan said softly, a little confused that Russia was still there, considering the muscled German that was foaming at the mouth and screaming for his blood, mere inches away from him. Russia complied, nodding to Japan, before leaving. America waited several seconds after he heard the front door slam behind Russia, before letting Germany go, ready to catch him again if he tried to bolt after him. He didn't though. He seemed to calm down, if only slightly, and America finally pinched his nose, and went to find tissues. Japan surveyed Germany, partially with disgust, partially with pity. The taller nation was breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath after that outburst. His face was red, and there was America's blood in his hair and on his shoulders. His fists were still clenched, at his sides, so tightly his knuckles went white. Japan didn't dare go near him. He wasn't sure he would have wanted to, even if he did dare. Instead, he did as Germany had predicted he would. Without a word, he turned on Germany, and left the room. He heard footsteps, and he realised Japan was going upstairs to check on America. There were more footsteps coming down, which meant Japan had America in tow. He heard the front door slam a second time. Then Germany was alone.

Outside, Russia was hurrying home with a wicked smirk on his face. He tucked the contract that he'd managed to pick pocket from America away, to hide the purple tell-tale glow of magic. Everything was going according to plan.


End file.
